


you put the laughter in slaughter

by delurks



Series: beyond the borderlands [7]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alternate Universe, Attempted Murder, Borderlandscast, Dehydration, Electrocution, Fights, Gen, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Starvation, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 04:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5320256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delurks/pseuds/delurks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a wrong turn on the road to lynchwood and pressing circumstances (if you can call wanting to answer the call of nature ‘pressing circumstances’) lands xephos and honeydew in the badass crater of badassitude. things can only go downhill from there. </p><p>as rythian mentioned in chapter seven of ‘the last vault hunter’, the only thing of interest in the area is an arena. guess what? rythian is <i>wrong</i>. there are plenty of things of interest in the area, like a scheming proprietor who’d like vault hunters to fight in their arena, even if they’ll have to kidnap one to pull in the crowds. </p><p>hint: it’s not xephos that’s kidnapped. it’s honeydew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you put the laughter in slaughter

**Author's Note:**

> i kid, there’s just the usual warnings (for guns and violence abound). this one is meant to be a light-hearted, silly fic this time around so expect nothing as hard-hitting as the last fic. you should go and read the last fic over [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5137922) if you haven’t done so already.

Xephos urges the light runner onwards toward Lynchwood. They can hear Honeydew humming an off-key tune in time to the radio from the turret's seat. His humming is backed by the metallic creak of the turret rotating as he keeps watch for any approaching danger. Several hours pass in the blink of an eye without a single incident.

With the silence and idling of the mind is a casual disregard for directions because the map marker Xephos has placed doesn't budge until it's too late, the light runner's overshot the turn in the road by a few miles.

When Xephos finally checks their map (much to their chagrin), they've ended up in an area that's nowhere near Lynchwood. 

They make to turn the light runner around when Honeydew sits up straight and bangs on the light runner's side with a meaty fist. The sound instantly grabs Xephos' attention, splitting it cleanly in half so that it’s divided between the road and Honeydew.

"Xephos, pull over!" Honeydew yells over the rushing wind, his words almost being whipped away.

"What, why?" Xephos shouts back. 

All the worst possibilities for why they have to pull over play out through their mind. It’s accompanied by a surge of adrenaline that lends a sharpened edge to every sense; the knot in their stomach starts to tie more knots, turning in on itself with every new one and forming a tangled mess that’s growing by the second.

"It's _very important_ that you pull the light runner over, _now_!" The urgency in Honeydew's tone isn't lost on Xephos but Xephos is loathe to stop the light runner now, especially when the importance of obtaining a shield core comes to mind. 

Even the tiniest delay could be costly in the long run.

"Can it wait?" Xephos asks, not bothering to wait for Honeydew's reply or trying to keep the annoyance from their tone, "We can pull over when we reach Lynchwood, we're not that far from it!" Xephos lies, hoping Honeydew will stop insisting.

"No, it can't!" is Honeydew's automatic reply. He sounds a touch more desperate compared to a few seconds before. They can almost imagine him squirming in the turret seat, judging by the awkward shifting of creaking metal behind them.

"What is it that's so important that you need me to pull over _now_?" Xephos impatiently asks. 

They have half a mind to turn around in the driver's seat to glare at Honeydew, if it weren't for their paranoia about colliding with something upon shifting their gaze from the road.

There's a profoundly long pause, an almost embarrassed one which Honeydew eventually breaks.

"I have to pee," Honeydew confesses with the tiniest bit of shame embedded in his tone, no longer glaring daggers at the back of Xephos’ head. His reply sweeps away all the fears from Xephos' racing mind and replaces it with utter disbelief.

The knots in Xephos’ stomach frays and falls to pieces that are neatly swept under the rug (until next time).

"...That's it?" Xephos can't help sounding dumbfounded. "No, I'm not pulling over for that," They firmly say, toeing the accelerator. It causes the light runner to lurch forwards and their heart to skip an excited beat. "You can hold it in for a bit longer."

The frame of the light runner starts to rattle and vibrate as the vehicle starts to pick up more speed, the engines letting out a high-pitched whine. Where it’d once stuck to the road, it’s now flying over every bump and hill, Xephos’ stomach lurching up, down and sideways with every sense of fleeting vertigo.

The speedometer starts to tick upwards, leveling out around the number ‘90’, the needle twitching with an excited fervor. Thankfully, neither Xephos and Honeydew suffer from motion or car sickness, their lunches staying put in their stomachs as leaden weights.

"XEPHOS," Honeydew bellows at the top of his voice, clinging to the turret’s railing as if it’s a matter of life or death.

Xephos can barely hear him over the fierce whistling of the wind, too preoccupied with their fingers curling (to the point of paling) over the top of the steering wheel, making minute adjustments to keep them on the road. 

The cold wind is almost a slap to the face, stinging the healing bruises and cuts on their face over what had happened back at Sanctuary Hole. They succeed in wiping the incident from their mind (that lesson learned), now preoccupied with _not crashing_.

"What?" Xephos impatiently yells back.

"I DON'T WANT TO PEE MY PANTS. DO YOU WANT THAT? BECAUSE THAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN IF YOU DON'T PULL OVER AND LET ME TAKE A LEAK RIGHT THIS SECOND," Honeydew roars without pausing for breath.

"Maybe I do want it to happen-" crudely slips out of Xephos' mouth before they can stop it.

Xephos snaps their mouth shut as a horrified (if somewhat comical) silence unfolds between them and Honeydew. They resist the urge to bang their head on the steering wheel if it weren't for the fact that they're already injured and have no need to add to their current wounds.

" _Wow_ ," is Honeydew's flat response, leveling an unimpressed look at the back of Xephos' head.

"Okay, fine, I'm pulling over!" Xephos slams on the brakes, right when a town is upon them. "Make it quick," They hurriedly add.

Xephos can feel their teeth rattle (they swear one is loose from all the punches to their face) as their light runner bounces off the road, pebbles scattering this way and that until they come to a complete stop. The dust cloud thrown up disperses like a crowd who’d had their fill of excitement.

Honeydew practically dives out of the turret and dashes off the moment his feet hit the ground. He slides down the hill towards one of the portable toilets nearby. He flings the door open (causing white-quality guns to fall out onto the ground), waddling in before the door can swing round and smack him in the back.

Xephos wrinkles their nose at the sight. While he’s gone, they might as well stretch their legs. Xephos extracts themself from the light runner (careful not to bang any body parts in the process) and leans against the slightly warm, burnt orange colored metal.

Five minutes crawl by, then another five. 

They frown. They look up from their HUD upon noticing the time, exiting their HUD to rise from leaning against the side of the light runner. Standing in the sun has caused Xephos to start sweating lightly, which they can feel through their clothes. Honeydew had said he'd only needed to pee, right?

To the best of Xephos' knowledge, peeing shouldn't take an upward of ten or so minutes. 

They peer over the side of the hill and have a momentary heart attack. If they’d been holding anything, they’d have dropped and let it shatter into a million pieces (and they wouldn’t have heard it at all, their mind screeching to a halt).

Two armor clad and masked beings are dragging an unconscious Honeydew by the legs towards the town and the coliseum close by. After a moment, one of them scoops up Honeydew and plops him onto the other person's back in a piggyback. 

Honeydew's hat falls off as his head lolls sideways before it falls forward, drool almost escaping from his slack mouth. One of them bends down to pick the hat, dusting it off before carefully placing it back on Honeydew's head. 

They even take the time to make sure it sits on his head just right.

Xephos whirls around and yanks the mechanism under the dashboard to despawn the light runner, almost dislocating their shoulder with how fast they move. They don't bother to wait for the light runner to completely despawn before sliding down the hill, hoping they won't draw any attention.

Upon reaching the bottom of the hill, they stumble behind a building, beginning to nervously sweat as they lean against it and peer around the corner. Fortunately, they haven't drawn any attention in doing so. 

The invisible fingers around their throat release them, letting them breathe a little easier with the realization that Honeydew’s not dead, just unconscious.

As the two gladiators meander towards the coliseum, Xephos shadows them using the cover of the buildings and scenery, always careful to stay out of sight. Their brow’s becoming wet with nervous sweat that soaks the neck of their shirt and causes it to stick to them like a second skin.

They ignore it in favor of dropping into a low crouch (behind a building), now close enough to hear the conversation the gladiators are having. The gladiators aren't bothering to keep their voices down so Xephos doesn’t have to strain to hear them.

"Man, Corvax is going to be so pleased with us," One of the gladiators smugly says. 

"I can't believe we nabbed us a Vault Hunter, just like that," The other gladiator says, sounding as if they can't believe their luck.

"We'll probably get a promotion! And then we can go on vacation like we've always dreamed of," the other gladiator sighs all too dreamily.

"The others will be so _jealous_ and it'll be just the two of us." The two gladiators fist bump each other with a resounding ‘clack’ of metal armor. 

Xephos can feel them grinning at each other under their helmets. The only thing they’ll have to contend with is bullets, Xephos grimly muses with a cold, righteous (and almost intoxicating) fury that flares up.

Before Xephos can pull out a gun and ambush the gladiators, they spot more gladiators standing guard outside the coliseum. They nod to the other two (and shoot puzzled glances at what one of them is bearing on their back), letting them pass.

When that happens, Xephos stills their hand from digistructing a gun, their cold fury being smothered by caution. They are almost certainly outnumbered, counting six, ten, fifteen, thirty, no, _fifty_ gladiators standing here and there around the various entrances to the coliseum.

The faint sound of a crowd cheering and booing drifts towards them as the coliseum’s door creaks down to admit the two gladiators. Xephos can't do anything but helplessly watch as Honeydew is taken inside. 

The coliseum’s door slams shut with an ominous clang of metal, any hope of going after Honeydew in that second, crushed with it. 

\--

He’d been taking a leak. The next thing he knew, pain had bloomed and he’d blacked out. The back of Honeydew's head throbs unpleasantly, sending an overdue reminder that he is in fact, not dead. Without opening his eyes, he experimentally wriggles his fingers and toes. 

Whatever he’d woken up on top of lacks the coarseness of dirt, so they can't possibly be in a ditch like the last time they’d been unconscious.

Xephos wouldn't let that happen. Or at least, not without voluntarily joining him.

Honeydew's fingers sink into the most softest and coolest material he's ever encountered in his entire life: silk. He lets out the tiniest pleased sigh, running his hands and fingers along it before he freezes.

Wait. 

Silk? Pandora's not a luxury hotel-unless there’d been some very drastic changes in the time he’s been knocked out.

When Honeydew focuses their hearing, there's classical music in the air, harmonious and, admittedly, eerie. Honeydew blearily cracks open an eye, now almost fairly certain that he's dead and this is some very strange version of the afterlife. 

The lack of fire and a hellish landscape is disappointing, yet reassuring.

Sitting up causes the lump in the back of his head to greet him with a pang that he acknowledges and proceeds to ignore. The air he inhales has a pleasant, cool feel to it with none of the dry sharpness that comes with the desert that Honeydew's long since come to associate with Pandora's surface.

He's in a tastefully decorated and minimally furnished bedroom, sitting on a king-size bed atop royal purple silk sheets. Honeydew casts a confused glance around the room, hoping for some sort of obvious clue as to where he is.

As he looks around, he reaches behind him with both hands. There’s nothing but two equally soft and identically colored silk pillows (with golden tassels, he might add). One of them bears the rough, wrinkled and dust-stained impression of his head.

The last time he’d showered had been yesterday but on Pandora, dust eventually returned to cling to him with some sort of renewed vengeance, no matter how hard he tries to keep himself dust-free.

Honeydew leaves the pillows alone and pats himself down. He's still wearing his gear and digistruct modules. Only his hat and boots are missing. Honeydew spies his hat hanging off a gold leafed hat rack and his boots neatly placed by the bed.

He’s a little weirded out in having expected that his boots would have been polished. They still bear their irregular leathery cracks, dust-filled scars and crevices along the top, bottom and sides. Even the laces (once pale colored) have become saturated with a pale tan so reminiscent of dirt. 

_Wait._ Hauling a boot up with a heavy hand, he lifts it to his face with a grimace. He deliberately ignores the sweaty, semi-rancid smell of his own feet drifting from the open end like an invisible, noxious cloud of miasma that would have made lesser folk like Xephos want to hurl.

The dust is so ingrained that even whoever had polished his boots hadn’t quite managed to remove it. For some reason, their failure to do so comforts him; they’d appeared to give up and had only polished whatever leather hadn’t been completely caked in irremovable dust.

Honeydew grins to himself, managing a half-hearted giggle that sounds too loud for the tiny room. Even several wash cycles set to maximum in the washing machines hadn’t been able to remove the dust either (ignoring the blatant fact that boots aren’t meant to be washed in such a manner).

 _Somebody_ had taken the time to knock him out, only to bring him to a classy bedroom, take off his boots (on top of polishing them) and hung up his hat while letting him sleep off his unconsciousness. 

Well, Honeydew has to hand it to them for being very considerate and offers his begrudging thanks instead of slitting his throat and running off with his stuff while he’d been knocked out.

A old-fashioned radio is playing the classical music on one of the ornate, mahogany tables. It sits innocently on a pristine white doily. The radio is only adding to the strange vibe of the room, doing little to stop him from feeling creeped out. It’s not doing him any good. 

Time to sort that out. 

Honeydew inches off the bed (still clutching one of his boots in one hand), continuing to ignore the still throbbing pain from their head. 

When he finally slides off, he can't help giggling because the carpet is very _plush_. It’s the same color as the bed's sheets and pillows. He spends a few seconds standing there, wriggling his toes on the carpet before pulling on his boots and tugging the laces tight.

The radio is silenced once he finds the knob and cranks it all the way to the left with a satisfying ‘click’. The silence that springs up is no longer welcoming (and creepy) but one of tense anticipation.

With that done, Honeydew snatches his hat off the hat rack (having to jump to reach it) and places it on his head. Puffing himself up and feeling much more ready and brave, he stumps over to the door to investigate what the everloving fuck is going on.

Right as he reaches the doors, the doors swing wide open to admit two gladiators.

Honeydew stares at them in surprise (and they stare back, equally surprised), finding himself drawing back out of caution. Belatedly, he remembers he still has his guns. He digistructs a rifle and points it at them, bracing for the potential recoil. Bit stupid of them to leave him with his digistruct modules, really.

"What's going on here?" He demands, making sure that they see that he has his finger on the trigger. He's more than happy to pull it too, if they don't respond.

To add to his surprise, the gladiators raise their hands, surrendering on the spot.

"Chill, we bring an invitation from Corvax who wishes to..." The gladiator who'd started speaking in a tinny surfer’s drawl proceeds to flounder for a second before turning his head to hurriedly whisper to his friend, "What else did Corvax say?" 

"He welcomes you to his arena and would like to invite you, the Vault Hunter, to dinner," the other gladiator calmly finishes (sans the drawl) for his friend. His friend breathes out in relief like they’d expected their friend to leave them to flounder. 

They both turn to Honeydew, awaiting his response.

"Dinner?" Honeydew lowers the gun a fraction, narrowing his eyes in suspicion (his bushy eyebrows mushing together).

"Yep, dinner," The two gladiators eagerly confirm, nodding in unison.

"Three courses plus dessert," One of them helpfully adds, stretching out the last word. "Definitely no poison. Corvax would like to add in that he has dishes that are gluten-free, fish-free, nut-free, dairy-free, meat-free-"

"The correct term is vegetarian, not meat-free!" The other gladiator butts in, sounding indignant. "Just in case you're one of those, he has salad and other...” He pauses to cast around for the right words, “Green stuff," He eventually deadpans at Honeydew. 

Honeydew can hear him thinking that he is definitely _not_ a vegetarian, judging by appearances alone. At any other time, he would have been offended; he has a _healthy_ appetite and meat is definitely a part of it, thank you very much. 

He suppresses a sudden giggle that bubbles up at the idea of vegetarians living on Pandora; while there’s no shortage of cannibals, carnivores or omni-whatever they’re called, vegetarians would be hard-pressed to survive.

Did vegetarian rations exist? He’ll have to ask Xephos. 

Upon remembering his friend and the mission, his expression and mood darken. He also finally remembers how he’d arrived in the room (for fuck’s sake, he’d only just wanted to _take a leak_ ).

"What if I say no?" Honeydew decides to ask (with a scowl), just because he can.

He's deliberately ignoring how much his mouth is watering at the mere mention of food since it'd been a few hours since he'd last eaten. He’s also not sure how much time has passed since he got knocked out, having forgotten to check his HUD upon waking.

"Oh. Well. Um." The two gladiators shuffle on the spot before awkwardly turning to each other to talk in (loud) hushed tones. It’s not helped by their hands coming up to their mouths to funnel their voices between their cupped hands. 

The gesture is made useless by their helmets but they don’t appear to have realized. Honeydew can’t help but eavesdrop while pretending to peer down at his fingers. There’s black semicircles caught under every broken nail with skin peeling off here and there from his healing sunburn.

"Shit, what do we do if he says no?"

"We can't tell Corvax the Vault Hunter declined, he'll shoot us!”

“He’ll also think we weren’t being formal enough!"

"We'll never go on vacation..."

The two continue to ‘whisper’, growing more panicked by the second. Honeydew watches them in growing disbelief for a few more seconds, finding it hard to believe that they hadn't been prepared to hear a 'no'.

He has the distinct impression other people (if other people who’d been in the same situation as he is existed) had simply taken the offer in a heartbeat. Apparently, solitary confinement to force compliance isn’t an option here, which Honeydew is somewhat grateful for. But it might be.

"Okay, you know what, you can tell this 'Corvax' character that I'll have dinner with him," Honeydew speaks up, having heard enough of their conversation to start feeling sorry for them. "And that I prefer my meat being authentic pork,” He quickly adds, suppressing a sigh. 

He can’t believe he’s doing this for the sake of these two fuckers, but he is also really hungry.

The two gladiators automatically perk up upon hearing that. Honeydew can feel their identical looks of gratitude directed at him under their helmets. The two gladiators immediately gush praise and profuse thanks (causing Honeydew's ego to swell and he briefly preens) before leaving, promising to return to fetch him when dinner's ready.

The door closes behind them (accompanied by the sound of a heavy bolt or bar being replaced). Honeydew returns to the bed. He's not particularly sure why he did that, considering they might even have been the same people who'd knocked him out. 

In any case, Honeydew digistructs his ECHO device and thumbs through his contacts, finding Xephos (looking irritated at having their picture taken while they’d been busy) and dialing them with bated breath.

Xephos doesn't pick up.

The call simply dies before reaching Xephos' ECHO. Honeydew knows that it's not a problem on Xephos' end, since Xephos keeps their ECHO well-maintained (and insists on maintaining Honeydew's as well). The reception might also be shit since Honeydew has no idea how far underground or where they are. 

The possibility that the ECHO signal might be jammed does flicker through Honeydew's mind but he pushes it out of his mind. He doesn't even know what to do if the signal is being jammed, especially in regards as to what sort of tech or machines might be involved. 

Swallowing back a wave of rising panic, he wishes Xephos was here to help; they’d know what to do. He let out the breath he’d been holding.

Feeling very much alone and helpless, Honeydew lies back down on the bed to await the summons for dinner. After a moment, he takes off his hat and boots. He drops his hat onto the bed and his boots onto the carpet before curling up with one of the pillows, into a miserable ball.

Of course, he could dig his way out (the diamond shovel safe and snug in his inventory) but he's curious to see what this 'Corvax' character wants from him first. In his opinion, they sound like a right piece of work.

\--

Exactly half an hour later, two (different) gladiators fetch him. Honeydew asks where the other two gladiators had gone, only slightly surprised when they deign to answer. He is informed that the two had been given vacation leave for Eros-6, much to some mild relief on Honeydew's part.

Honeydew is escorted through a series of identical and rather drab concrete hallways until the two gladiators take up positions on either side of giant, intimidating doors. Together, they give Honeydew low parting bows before pulling the doors open. 

He steps through the door (which slowly creaks shut behind him with a foreboding air and a ‘clang’). The room is, for lack of a better word, _extravagant_. 

He’s standing on a paved cobblestone floor, not a single stone out of place and scrubbed to a sheen. A painted, curved ceiling stretches far above his head with a chandelier hanging off it. Much to his childish delight, it bears electric candles topped with faux orange flames that glow and dim every few seconds.

The room is spacious enough for five rakk hives to stand side by side or atop one another. Gaudy, elaborate decorations and furniture line the edges of the room with columns. Statues of armored people in heroic and stoic poses fill in the gaps. Draperies adorn the walls, with a matching colored carpet that’s spread across the floor in the middle of the room.

A giant table with assorted dishes takes up the middle of the room. There’s even _wine_ , the bottles submerged in ice-filled buckets, scattered on top of the table here and there. The combined smell of all the food is _incredible_ , even from where he stands. 

Honeydew's stomach grumbles loudly in anticipation of such a glorious feast. He puts a hand on his stomach, patting it as if it’s a beast to be distracted with being paid the slightest bit of attention.

"Patience, friend," Honeydew mumbles, looking around the room in awe.

He can only imagine the look on Xephos' face at how much it might have cost and all the effort gone into the room and the feast awaiting him. Honeydew stifles a giggle at that mental image before feeling a deep-cutting pang of loneliness with the realisation that Xephos still isn't here with him.

He hopes that Xephos is fine and hasn't gotten into trouble. Perhaps he’ll see Xephos at the dinner?

"Welcome, Vault Hunter!" A deep voice booms at him from one end of the long table, breaking into his thoughts. Honeydew starts, standing on tiptoe to seek out the owner of the voice. He spies a rugged, tanned face in between all the dishes. It must be Corvax, brandishing a ring-encrusted hand in welcome. "Come, sit! Make yourself at home!"

Honeydew takes a seat at the opposing end of the table at the only (empty) chair placed there. His face only comes up to the edge of the table. 

Doing his best to swallow the sinking realisation that Xephos is likely not going to arrive, he focuses on happier thoughts, like food, for instance.

Noticing his predicament with the table, Corvax snaps his fingers and two gladiators appear out of nowhere (startling Honeydew once again) to modify the chair. He hops off to watch. 

Said modifications consist of adding a sturdy, Dahl ammo crate with a purple silk cloth and a silk cushion placed on top. The gladiators disappear and Honeydew is able to take his seat once again, unable to stop himself from feeling well pampered. 

He now has a good view of the table and Corvax. Heavyset features peer at him with keen interest. Honeydew has the impression that Corvax is making detailed, mental notes about him (he resists the irrational urge to pick at his nails so that they’re clean under the table).

"Help yourself to any of these dishes. My gourmet chefs have been hard at work to honor your request for authentic pork!" Corvax booms, already helping himself to the food with silver cutlery.

Not wishing to offend (and very much ravenous at this point), Honeydew reaches for the nearest dish, a giant roasted pig with droplets of rich fat dribbling down its side to collect in one giant, delicious pool underneath.

He pulls the plate towards him and cuts a sizeable portion out of its side with the knife provided, jabbing a fork into the slice and ripping it free (with an absolutely _obscene_ sound) to pile it onto his plate.

If he trusts Corvax, Corvax wouldn't have tampered with it in any way. Honeydew cautiously sniffs the meat before taking a small bite out of it. True to his word, the meat doesn't taste strange at all, having been cooked to near perfection. That's more than enough to convince Honeydew to take a bigger bite and start eating to his heart's content.

Honeydew hasn't eaten anything this rich or filling in a long, long, time, chewing slowly to savor the texture, taste and smell of every bite.

It's been _months_ since he and Xephos came to live (hide, rather) on Pandora. 

The two of them have been living off rations the entire time, supplemented with the rare hunt for wild game. While there's enough variety and sustenance that they won't get sick of them (or get scurvy), it's not the same as a home cooked and freshly prepared meal. 

Off the top of his head, the closest thing to that would have to be Ravs' cooking (free, sometimes paid out of their own pockets whenever they could afford to).

Honeydew can't say for sure if this beats it, as the chefs Corvax had hired had really done an excellent job in preparing the dishes.

He steadily works his way through five more plates and several dishes, including dessert (some sort of fruit-stuffed, sauce laden pie) before feeling completely full. He sits back on his chair, patting his stomach and resisting the urge to give a loud, satisfied burp. If his pants had been just tighter, they would have been bursting at the seams by now.

As he peers around the room, he spies one of the gladiators standing nearby. Their posture is so rigid and if it weren’t for the rise and fall of their chest, he’d thought they’d been part of the decor as if they’re one of the sets of armor scattered around the room. 

He sticks his hand straight into the air to summon one over. One marches over to hover close by him. They give him a curious look that Honeydew can feel even if they’re wearing a helmet that hides their face.

“Can I get a doggy bag?” He voices his query in a hesitant tone. 

The gladiator gives him an obliging nod and vanishes. Five minutes later, they appear by his side, handing him some empty containers. Honeydew takes them, bobbing his head gratefully and flashing a toothy grin at them.

A low bow and they move back into position, part of the scenery once more. 

Honeydew doesn’t care if Corvax thinks he’s being rude or greedy, the food is for Xephos. That’s if he ever sees Xephos again but he stubbornly clings to the notion and hope that he _will_. He starts cutting sizeable portions from every dish, carefully piling them into the containers.

Some of the gladiators watching move to help, switching out dishes for him and he mutters a distracted ‘thanks’ to them, concentrating on his task of butchering and dissecting portions.

He’s awfully messy about arranging the portions so that they aren’t touching each other but he does try; it’s the thought that counts. Obviously, some of the food inevitably merge in blatant violation of the culinary wizardry that had went into making them in the first place. 

Since Honeydew doesn’t care one bit about presentation, he doesn't give a shit about how it looks in the end (although he’d do well to ask Xephos to close their eyes when eating if the sight bothers them that much). 

The lids are firmly shut once each container is filled fit to burst. Honeydew carefully slides them into his inventory under the table. Corvax hasn’t appeared to notice, continuing to eat. 

Honeydew starts on the wine while waiting. He smacks his lips, tasting something deep red, fruity and pungent smelling, but it goes down without a complaint.

Playing wine connoisseur is all well and fun (and pretending to put on a posh accent in his head and causing him to snicker as a result) but he’s getting impatient. His thoughts turn to escape and he’s toying with the idea of making a break for the door behind Corvax.

At last, Corvax finishes off his own plate before leaning forward and looking straight at him. Even from this far, Honeydew can't miss the devious glint in his eye. He dredges up several, plausible reasons for the dinner invitation. All of them play out in his mind; he doesn't really fancy shooting his way out of this, considering how generous Corvax had been.

But if he has to, he’ll do it. One hand drifts close to his gun-filled digistruct module just in case.

Forgetting about his glass of wine (now drained halfway despite three refills), Honeydew sits up straight to pay full attention to whatever Corvax has to say.

"Now that dinner's over, I have a proposal if you'd like to listen to it, Vault Hunter," Corvax calmly says. 

Even when not shouting, his voice is still as loud as ever. Honeydew doesn't have to strain his ears to hear him talk. There's something business-like to his tone this time, instead of the welcoming one he’d used earlier.

"What sort of proposal?" Honeydew immediately asks, refraining from yelling across the table to him. Corvax apparently has quite good hearing since he responds.

"You are in the Badass Crater of Badassitude Arena, a place where gladiators and fighters gather to shed blood and test their skills against like-minded opponents!" Corvax explains, his chest swelling up with pride. “And I am Corvax, the proprietor of the entire Arena!”

"Nice to meet you,” pops out of Honeydew’s mouth. “And how does this involve me?" He swallows, already having a vague idea of where this is headed. He lowers his hand to let the fingers of both hands lace together to disguise his discomfort.

"You are a Vault Hunter. My gladiators and fighters would gladly die for the chance to fight a Vault Hunter," Corvax says, pausing before adding in a slightly amused tone, "The crowds also love a surprise opponent. Brings them in like nothing else."

"I'm not sure if I want to fight your gladiators and fighters," Honeydew interrupts, sounding unsure (but the thought of a crowd going wild in their support for him is so very tempting). He glances down at his entwined hands, unable to stop himself fidgeting, wishing he was somewhere else.

"I haven't finished speaking.” Corvax raises a hand to silence him. He lowers it once Honeydew has snapped his mouth shut. “What if I told you that there is a Vault underneath this Arena.”

That instantly ensnares Honeydew's attention, trapping it. His head snaps up to regard Corvax with newfound interest. "A Vault?" Honeydew blinks, leaning forward. "What kind of Vault?" He can’t hide the eagerness in his voice or expression. 

Rythian’s warning about the Vaults from earlier bubbles up but vanishes in the same second it’d formed.

"I do not know, but it exists under this Arena. If you enter my Arena and win five rounds without dying, it can be arranged for you to access the Vault," Corvax lightly says, smiling now that he has Honeydew's complete, undivided attention.

Honeydew's mind is filled with possibilities that unroll before him, laying out promises of loot, glory, fame and fortune. He doesn't even have to think twice about eagerly accepting.

In doing so, he forgets about Xephos entirely and any words of warning they might have had about accepting such a lucrative offer (and the invisible catches that come with it).

"Deal. When do I start in this Arena of yours?" Honeydew leans back, greed in his eyes.

Corvax gives a pleased laugh that echoes through the room before smiling devilishly and saying, "Right away, if you don't mind."

\--

Once he's slid off his chair (regretting briefly at having eaten so much), Honeydew is blindfolded and gently led by the hand to his destination. He tries at first to remember all the turns and twists he's led through but quickly loses track, his heart thudding in his chest at the thought of opening a Vault and his first Arena match. 

It should be _easy_ , shooting at things that are trying to kill him, since he's got more than enough experience for that. He feels a little bad at facing the gladiators. They’d been tolerant of him so far, sans kidnapping him but it’s nothing personal; that’s just how things on Pandora tended to turn out.

Whoever is leading him by the hand stops. Honeydew's blindfold is removed. He blinks and finds himself standing in a small side room (lit by fluorescent lights), presumably one where the gladiators and fighters prepare. The windows are barred and blinded, preventing him from seeing what’s in the Arena.

A lone teleport pad is in the center of the room, hooked up the outlets in the wall by frayed, taped over wires. Tables laden with guns, equipment, medical supplies and makeup are shoved up against every wall of the room. Somewhat disturbingly, the room smells of a potent mixture of blood, fear, suspense and anticipation.

Honeydew takes a deep breath, breathing it in (letting it become part of him, metaphorically and literally). It settles without complaint, right up against his nerves, gracing them with a ghost of a breath and drawing back with an expectant, dangerous grin. 

His sense of sight, hearing, taste, touch and smell take on a new definition of alert. No longer bogged down by the heaviness of overeating, he’s a string stretched taut, waiting to be cut loose but not knowing when (bracing for the inevitable).

Sweat gathers in his palms, on his chest and back. It’s cool in the room, the sweat serving to chill instead of warming him. The lingering taste of red wine is replaced with tasteless saliva. He licks his dry lips in an effort to keep them wet. His heart, ever mindful of the minute changes elsewhere, increases its beating a fraction.

Details he’d never seen before stand out (the various, long dried stains on the floor, the blinding lit background between the blinds, the surrealness of it all). Honeydew takes it all in, banishing his nervousness to the depths of his mind.

The gladiators busy with making sure that he looks fine, straightening up his hat and holsters for him. After more fussing (until he’s finally deemed fit to enter the Arena), one of them offers Honeydew a mask from one of the side tables.

"Only if you want to wear it," They tell him, shrugging and causing their shoulder armor to clink as it moves and resettles.

Honeydew takes it, sliding it over his face. It smells clean and of polished leather. 

It looks like the mask of one of those bandits, the ones that don't use guns and prefer charging in with something sharp and pointy. He can’t help but draw a vague resemblance between them and him (his own diamond shovel standing in for any sharp, pointy objects).

His world comes up blue and black through the lens. He doesn't have to look into a mirror to know that he looks a little ridiculous, his unruly beard sticking out here and there from under the mask. Well, at least he’s learned that his beard can’t be tamed with such means.

The gladiators seem pleased by his choice in taking the mask, though. He can feel the grins they shoot at one another before they turn to him.

"Ready?" One of them asks.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Honeydew affirms. 

"Kindly step onto the pad." The other goes over to the wall to pull a switch a second after he steps onto the pad. 

“Good luck,” is the last thing Honeydew hears.

His world lights up and he is being taken apart (piece by piece, no, all at once, no, _scratch that_ , molecule by molecule). It’s a ticklish sensation, exactly like using the Fast Travel Network. If he could have giggled, he would have, had he been capable of doing so.

When Honeydew comes to, he's standing on a giant metal platform with various, dark colored stains and streaks slicked across it. He tries not to think too hard about what they might be. Dents, crevices and patches serve to collect small pools, forming finger deep wells here and there across the platform.

The square-shaped platform is in the center of the arena but there's a sizeable gap between it and the circular walls, as if something could be easily launched up to the platform along the walls via in-built and makeshift ramps there.

Above Honeydew, there are stands absolutely packed with people, not a single spare seat in sight. A ocean of faces peers down at him. Between him and them, there's a metal grid protecting them from whatever might happen in the Arena. 

Upon his arrival, the deafening roar of the crowd washes over him and his heart soars to new, euphoric heights.

He can't make out what the crowd is saying, all the voices blending together into one unnerving cacophony. It adds to the bloodthirsty atmosphere Honeydew had been expecting from the start.

Corvax's voice booms out over the loudspeakers a moment later. Honeydew can see him in a room (probably the announcer's box) that’s placed just slightly higher than the platform. Honeydew can barely hear him over the crowd.

"Greetings, I am Corvax, Overseer of the Badass Crater of Badassitude Arena and today, I present to you a very special guest hailing from the wilderness of Pandora and brought specially here to offer a challenge: Honeydew the Vault Hunter!"

Upon the mention of his name, Honeydew waves at the crowd. On impulse, he brings up both hands to blow kisses, grinning under his mask the entire time with his heart caught in his throat, drunk and high on his fifteen minutes of fame.

"If the Vault Hunter can last through five rounds of vehicles being thrown at them-" Corvax’s voice bursts his bubble. Honeydew stops in the middle of waving.

Wait. What. _Vehicles_?

Honeydew had assumed he'd be fighting flesh and blood opponents, not cars or anything of the mechanical sort. His hand falls to his side. Staring up in mild horror at the loudspeaker, his heart sinks back down into the middle of his chest, staying there this time.

Right on cue, the sound of an engine roaring grows louder from directly behind him. Honeydew whirls to face the first vehicle that’s being launched upwards. It leaps off one of the ramps, landing on the platform and causing it to shake slightly from the impact.

A technical laden with gladiators (each of them toting guns) rockets towards him. Honeydew rolls out of the way across the platform, slicking himself in god-knows-what (don't think too hard about _that_ , just keep moving). 

The gladiators taunt him as they pass. One of them fires their gun but the shot misses, pinging harmlessly off the platform as the vehicle vanishes over the side of the platform, the gladiators excitedly whooping the entire time.

Honeydew comes out of the roll, getting to his feet right as another vehicle lands on the platform and speeds towards him. 

The drivers and passengers shout their eagerness for blood. Instead of going off the side, the vehicle circles him. Honeydew grabs his trusty rifle out of his digistruct module and unloads an entire clip on the vehicle; most of his bullets ping off the metal but he nails one gladiator in the head.

They fall off (head missing), dropping their gun, the resulting mess adding to the stains on the platform. Their fellow gladiators don't pause to mourn the loss of their friend, only appearing to grow more excited at Honeydew actually shedding blood.

The crowd roars for more, egged on by Corvax. Another technical lands on the platform to join the other one to run circles around him.

Honeydew reloads and starts shooting at the vehicles passing by, his shield flaring up whenever he's hit by stray shots. It feels like the gladiators are toying with him, never quite letting his shield die down to the point where he's wounded. It’s probably to keep the crowd entertained as he’s caught in a contriving game of cat and mouse.

It's only now that Honeydew realizes that this had been a _horrible_ idea. Mindful of the vehicles circling him, he backs over to the edge of the platform, peering down with a sideways glance. There's a very long drop to the floor of the Arena. Gladiators and vehicles take up every bit of space where ramps and launching platforms don't. 

If he falls, he'd almost certainly die from the mob waiting down there. 

He gulps and backs away from the platform's edge to confront the vehicles hassling him. There's nothing much he can do aside from doing one thing: winning. A shadow crosses over his own. He looks up.

He shoots the underside of an incoming technical, causing sparks and the engine to sputter and die in mid-air. The occupants evacuate to land on the platform as the technical arcs over the edge of the platform. 

He can hear it crashing against the sides of the Arena as it falls. Already having forgotten about it the instant it fell out of sight, Honeydew releases a bloodthirsty roar and charges forward to meet his new foes; _finally_ , flesh and blood opponents. 

Another car is launched with just a bit too much force (and enthusiasm) from whoever’s operating the launchers below. It comes into view above him as the gladiators leap off it and land to confront him alongside the others.

In any case, Honeydew unloads a barrage of bullets into the flying car, more as a show of force. It explodes upon hitting the roof of the Arena, leaving a giant, charred hole behind that exposes the night sky.

"Ignore the shitty construction!" Corvax roars over the loudspeaker before continuing with his commentary in a gravelly and dramatic voice, "The Vault Hunter is certainly fighting with gusto as they score a critical hit on a gladiator, their bullets ripping through them. No mercy is to be found whatsoever..."

\--

Outside and oblivious to Honeydew's predicament, Xephos restlessly paces, frantic with worry and panic. They run their hands through their hair, messing it up like they’ve just rolled out of bed. The gesture doesn't do anything to soothe their frazzled state of being one bit.

They’ve retreated to the outskirts of town (where the Fast Travel Station is located) for the time being to avoid drawing attention to their constant loitering around the coliseum. 

It’s not exactly the first time they’d been at a complete loss for what to do but they hate it with every fibre of their being, to be reduced to doing _nothing_ but twiddle their thumbs and expect something miraculous to simply _happen_ , having exhausted all the options at hand.

The coliseum has no windows that they can climb into. Every single gate and door is locked down tight. They’re not a thief so they have no idea how to lockpick any of them open. They’ve tried prying at the fittings, shooting and punching them (bruising their hand in the process) but to no avail.

Honeydew won’t respond to any pinging of his ECHO. It’s like he’s all but vanished into thin air but Xephos is so sure that their friend is still inside. The signal they’ve last traced is still confined within the area but aside from that, Honeydew’s precise location within it is still a mystery.

The Fast Travel Station behind Xephos whirs into life, startling them with flashes of blue and white lights and its trademark teeth-grinding sound of digistructing. They stare at the person being digistructed, the machine falling silent once its task is done. 

It's Ravs. He stretches, raising both arms well above his head, eliciting a series of satisfying cracks and pops of bone. Upon spotting Xephos staring at him, he blinks, surprise flickering across his features.

"Ravs!" Xephos exclaims, getting over their shock a second later. "What are you doing here?”

Ravs doesn’t miss the relief that floods Xephos’ expression, washing away everything but the worry that Ravs has come to associate with them.

"I got some outstanding business with the owner of this Arena," Ravs says, nodding in the direction of said coliseum. He speaks in a somewhat evasive tone but it's the furthest thing from Xephos' mind, to question the purpose of his visit. 

“I see,” Xephos replies, nodding and appearing to accept his vague explanation.

Ravs looks around as if expecting to see Honeydew pop up out of nowhere. "Where's your little friend?"

"The people inside,” Xephos pauses to gesture to the coliseum behind them, “kidnapped Honeydew," They explain, despairing, "I don't know how to get in to save Honeydew since everything is locked down and there's no way in." 

They wring their hands, long fingers folding over their bone-white knuckles, fingers pinching at the skin of their hands like it might help alleviate their worries. Xephos doesn’t appear to be conscious of doing so, their fearful blue eyes downcast.

Ravs frowns. He gives a wide grin a second later. "Don't worry, I know a secret entrance," He says with a wink before turning, striding down the stairs and across the expanse of desert separating the outskirts of town from the coliseum, his form standing out in the darkness.

Xephos feels their face going red (glad that it’s night so that it hides their blush despite the tan of their face). They scramble to follow Ravs into town as to not lose him in the dark. 

When Ravs reaches the coliseum, he saunters over to one of the padlocked gates barring entry (one that Xephos had failed to break into). Ravs just twists the lock off the gate with a hand, the metal creaking. He drops the mangled lock and holds the gate (revealing a metal ladder going up) open for Xephos with a flourish.

They give a grateful nod and step through to climb the ladder. Ravs follows after carefully closing the gate behind them. Rung after rung meets Xephos’ hands until the ladder morphs into the hard edge of a metal bridge.

The bridge curves around the side of the Arena. Even though Xephos had expected somebody to come after them, there’s just the sound of the climbing wind and nighttime creatures crying out to one another. The bridge creaks as Ravs joins him, their clothes flapping and rustling in the wind.

The two of them are high up, almost on the same level as the roof of the coliseum. Xephos’ hand gropes in the dark for the railing, feeling the icy cold metal under their palm once they find it. It lends a sense of security to Xephos in knowing that they won’t topple over the edge if they misstep. 

Ravs carefully edges past Xephos, leading the way around the side of the Arena. He also grips the railing, but with slightly more force so that the impressions of his fingers are left behind as he moves.

He’s giving off the determined air of someone who really doesn’t want to look down lest they be gripped by paralyzing fear with the realization (or sight) of being over a hundred or so metres off the ground.

Xephos follows him, not daring to make any conversation in favor of watching their step. Around the other side of the Arena, blinding white light pours out from a hole in the roof.

"Well, that's not the right entrance, but it'll do," Ravs says with a laugh. "And don't quote me on that," He hastily adds with a chagrined expression as the two of them draw close to the hole.

In response, Xephos lets out a half-embarrassed, half-strangled sound of mirth. Unable to resist their curiosity, they peer down into the hole to see what's inside of it.

"That's Honeydew!" Xephos shouts, spotting a familiar figure running around on the platform beneath them. Honeydew is is covered in blood (Xephos hopes it's not his), well in the thick of the action. "How do we get down there?" Xephos turn to Ravs with a hopeful look.

A thoughtful look appears on Ravs' face. The second their words leave their mouth, Xephos regrets asking because Ravs’ grin returns in full force.

\--

Honeydew spies two figures falling down through the hole in the roof. He turns to see who's decided to drop in, readying his gun just in case more of Corvax’s cronies have decided to join in. He blinks. Behind his mask, his mouth falls open.

It's Ravs, carrying Xephos (bridal-style). Ravs solidly lands on the platform, crouching to gently put down a ruffled Xephos. A very worried Xephos races over to Honeydew, their feet slipping on the gory mess on the platform.

"Honeydew!" tumbles from Xephos’ mouth once they’re close enough.

Honeydew has never been so glad to see his friend, relief filling him to the point of light-headedness (and not just because of all the adrenaline coursing through him with all the fighting).

"Xephos!" He reaches out to grab Xephos' arm, steadying them. 

He refrains from hugging them, all too aware of the gunk covering (also mingled with copious amounts of sweat) him from his rampage. Their reunion is cut short as a technical roars over their heads through the air, straight towards Ravs. 

"Ravs! Look out!" They both cry.

Ravs just frowns and aims a well-placed punch at the technical, sending it flying towards the announcer's box where Corvax is positioned. 

The technical explodes harmlessly against the shield that flares into life. It flickers out of sight as bits of the technicals and its former occupants rain down. Honeydew and Xephos feel sorry for whoever is standing below that resulting mess.

As the shield dissolves, Corvax gives a mocking laugh as Ravs lets out a dissatisfied 'hm', placing a hand on his hip while glaring at Corvax.

Xephos and Honeydew raise both their eyebrows at each other (Honeydew doing so under his mask), all too glad that Ravs is on their side. Xephos glances down at Honeydew's face, starting and reacting in the way of slamming a taser into Honeydew's arm.

Honeydew collapses onto his side as blue sparks leap off his body and into thin air.

Xephos quickly retracts the taser, crouching to tend to Honeydew, a little horrified at their automatic response to seeing a 'bandit' standing next to them. Honeydew's body convulses madly, the spasms eventually subsiding into the occasional twitch. 

The mask rolls to a stop several metres away.

"I am so sorry," Xephos guiltily says.

"Good thing I had an empty bladder beforehand," Honeydew mutters with a touch of sarcasm.

Xephos extends a hand that Honeydew takes. He's hauled to his feet, wobbling unsteadily for a few moments. After catching his breath, he delivers an open-handed slap to Xephos' butt (the extent of his reach, still feeling tender all over from the shock of the taser to try to reach any higher).

They yelp in pain, their head snapping downwards to glare at Honeydew. 

" _Why_ -okay, maybe I deserved that," Xephos starts, indignant but ending up sounding sheepish. Their glare softens. The two of them become aware of two people shouting. They look up at the sources.

"-renegading on the agreement? I should come over there and knock your teeth out, assuming you still have some from last time," Ravs shouts at Corvax while cracking both of his knuckles (the sound carries over to Xephos and Honeydew, causing them to wince).

"Ignore him, of course I still have teeth, don't listen to that kilt-wearing bastard!" Corvax bellows, their words ringing through the loudspeakers, followed by a high pitched sound that dies a second later as if Corvax had fumbled the microphone.

Ravs laughs at successfully winding up Corvax, proceeding to lob a grenade straight at him. It explodes, sending out lightning that withers away, unable to seek out its intended target due to the shield getting in the way. 

"Useless! My shield will never break under your pathetic attempts of force!" Corvax laughs. "Send out all the gladiators, I want them dead!" He orders.

"Bring it on!" Ravs roars. “I’m ready for anything you’ll throw at me!”

The crowd goes wild (wilder than when it’d just been Honeydew), the sound sending sudden vibrations all along the platform from the sheer amount of noise amassing in the Arena.

Xephos taps Ravs on the shoulder once they've drawn close enough to do so, the bare bones of a plan assembled in their mind. Ravs turns his head to survey Xephos. He’s calm but there’s a fire burning in his eyes, all too reminiscent of brewing bloodlust.

"I can bring down the shield and leave the core intact," Xephos bravely volunteers, trying not to flinch, remembering the eventual outcome of someone paying this much attention to them.

"Do it," Ravs says, choosing to trust Xephos. 

The roar and revving of engines joins the sound of the crowd, coming from all around them and buzzing straight through to their bones; it aches Honeydew’s jaw as a result of how hard he’s been clenching his teeth throughout the slaughter.

A Monster vehicle casts a giant shadow over them. At the sight of it, Honeydew swaps his rifle for a rocket launcher and fires a rocket straight at it. The Monster explodes, sending smoking pieces of shrapnel raining down on the three of them. 

Their shields bear the brunt of the impact but Honeydew is sent flying backwards from the vicious kick of the rocket launcher. Combined with the slippery surface of the platform and the lack of his boots’ ability to grip wet surfaces, he slides back. His feet eventually leave solid ground as he’s unable to stay upright.

He screams as he hurtles through the air towards the edge of the platform, managing to despawn the rocket launcher mid-air whilst flailing; he thinks he’s doing a halfway decent impression of a chicken trying to take flight.

 _Somehow_ , Ravs is there, ready to intercept him. He grabs Honeydew by the leg as he flies past, reeling him in before he completely sails off the platform. Ravs carefully puts him down. 

Honeydew is glad that he hasn’t managed to dislocate anything in his leg or bite his tongue from how hard the backlash had been from Ravs grabbing him.

“Thanks,” Honeydew manages, his legs having liquified into two jelly-like stumps. Ravs claps a warm, leather-gloved hand down onto his shoulder to steady him, gently squeezing it in response (and Honeydew tries not to swoon on the spot).

“No problem,” Ravs brightly says. “Good shot back there, by the way.”

Honeydew can’t help but let out a nervous, high-pitched giggle and starts to fan himself with a hand; it’s dreadfully _warm_ in the Arena, he’s just noticed (there’s too many lights overhead, that’s all). 

He refrains from toying with one of his beard’s braids as well while overcome with infatuation. The constant near-death experiences and Ravs helping them out aren’t helping his newfound appreciation for him either.

The sight of Xephos crossing his line of sight is like a bucket of icy cold water being upended on his head, snapping him out of his stupor. _Right_ , the mission. No time to get distracted. His thumbs hook into his belt to straighten up his pants. He puffs himself up once that’s done.

Still, Honeydew can’t help but sneak an affectionate, sideways glance at Ravs (who’s taken his hand away). He’s busy reloading his shotgun. How he manages to stay so relaxed in such a situation like this, Honeydew really like to know.

"I have to prepare to take down the shield, so cover me!" Xephos shouts, digistructing a holographic keyboard, their eyes racing to follow lines of text that only they can see on their HUD.

"What are you doing?" Ravs yells, not quite understanding what is it that Xephos intends to do. He’d been expecting something more dramatic, not _typing_. 

His words are drowned out by the roar of approaching vehicles. Honeydew rolls one shoulder back, cracking his neck before digistructing and firing his assault rifle at the cars tearing up the walls around them. Ravs shakes his head before joining Honeydew in the fray.

A party of gladiators disembarks from a technical’s that flipped over upon landing.

Ravs barrels into them, causing them to scatter like a flock of angry, gun-toting, startled and shouty birds (in Honeydew’s opinion). He succeeds in knocking half of them off the platform, sending them plummeting to their deaths before turning on the rest who’d managed to stay on the platform.

They open fire on him but he continues walking towards them. He’s shrugging off the bullets (as if they’re nothing more than droplets of water) as they ping and ricochet off him, his shield faithfully bearing the impacts until the last of it is drained away.

His shield’s whines once it’s down, caught on the long recharge time which suits Ravs just fine. He puts away his gun, the shield’s roid damage layering onto his fists. He grabs the nearest gladiator within his reach, hauling them towards him by the gun.

They make the mistake of swinging at him with the hand that’s not holding the gun. Ravs simply catches it in his open palm, his fingers folding over theirs in an iron grip.

A simple move of his fingers destroys the bones there, causing them to drop the gun in their hand with a sudden shriek of pain. Ravs lets go of the gun as well. From there, it’s only a simple matter of hefting his victim up.

Their spine cracks on his knee, the crunch of bones grinding against each other in ways that they shouldn’t, causing Ravs to smirk. He easily tosses them aside like they’re simply a human-shaped doll. 

Their limp, mangled body slides to an abrupt halt next to Honeydew as the other gladiators start to back up, having ceased fire for fear of hitting their friend. The platform is only so large and there’s nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. 

It’s only apparent now what sort of force Ravs presents and why Corvax hadn’t wanted to face him in person; it sort of takes Honeydew’s breath away. A whimper sounds by his feet, causing him to glance in the direction of its source.

Honeydew coolly looks down at the poor bugger by his feet. They’re still alive, pale and gasping in pain but Honeydew takes care of that with a single pull of his rifle’s trigger before booting the body off the edge (much to the crowd’s infinite delight and Corvax’s displeasure).

Corvax doesn’t stop his commentary, beginning to include increasingly snider comments and making his unhappiness apparent at their continued survival.

Xephos continues moving around on the platform, dodging gunfire, gladiators and vehicles, all while somehow keeping their eyes trained on their HUD. They’re missing the action. Every now and then, the stray bullet or debris bounces off them.

Even that’s not enough to drag their attention away. They’re focused that intensely on their task; they’d said so to Ravs and it’s over their dead body that they won’t keep their word.

One of the destroyed wrecks of a vehicle wildly careens towards them, egged on by Corvax. Honeydew’s head snaps up at Corvax’s words to seek out Xephos, spotting them about to walk right into technical’s path.

“Looks like Honeydew’s friend is about to become roadkill!” Corvax follows up that piece of commentary with a mean, expectant laugh.

Honeydew charges over, his rifle clutched in one hand, willing himself not to slip or trip. He doesn’t, managing to slide the last metre, ending up behind Xephos. He grabs Xephos by the hips (just in time, as the front fender affectionately rustles Xephos' coat as it passes by), pulling them towards him out of harm's way.

Honeydew unloads a burst of gunfire at the offending vehicle, watching with satisfaction as the vehicle’s frame becomes peppered with bullet holes and slides off the edge. Somewhere in the background, Ravs is making short work of another group of gladiators.

"Thanks," Xephos absently says before frowning and blinking. "Wait, did you just dance me out of danger?"

"Maybe," Honeydew sweetly says before giggling.

Eight shadows loom. Ravs, Honeydew and Xephos look skywards, seeing eight technicals high in the air above their heads in a loose circle. It would have been impressive if it weren't for the fact that they're about to _land_ on them.

Ravs snaps the neck of the gladiator he’s holding before flinging the dead man at the remaining gladiators, bowling them over. He turns towards Xephos and Honeydew.

“Run!”

“I have a better idea!” Xephos shouts at him. At that second, they slam down a button on their keyboard and vanish the keyboard a second after. "Incoming!" They shout, covering their head and diving out of the way, not caring what splatters their form. 

Honeydew reaches out to pull them close while Ravs stands in front of them, a hand held over his eyes to avoid being blinded by what happens next.

The roof is torn apart by a giant beam of light that rips through half of the platform (almost like a knife shearing through a sheet of paper) and the technicals, which are sent flying. The laser hits the shield protecting Corvax head-on, shattering it into oblivion, continuing on to carve a line straight through the announcer's box.

They can't see what's happening to Corvax but Xephos instantly assumes he’s wounded or at worst, dead. Definitely no guilt there, given that he’d kidnapped Honeydew and dragged them into this mess. As for what Ravs wanted with him, well, that couldn’t be helped.

The laser eventually stops firing but it feels like forever to Honeydew and Xephos, the two of them having squeezed their eyes shut to the point of causing dots to appear beneath their eyelids. The two are bent low on the remains of the platform with their hands protectively held over their heads.

Xephos guesses that the laser has run out of charge, silence descending briefly before fleeing. The crowd’s no longer cheering, having long since fled the moment the laser hit. Xephos gets to their feet with an unpleasant squelch sounding underfoot with a variety of colorful, gory stains all over their front and pants.

They sigh (more laundry later), glancing around once they’ve opened their eyes again. Honeydew and Ravs are in one piece. Honeydew uncurls from his crouch, his eyebrows raising at the scene that meets him once he dares to open his eyes.

The beams holding up the remains of the platforms start to buckle. Ravs puts his hand down. That’d been impressive (and a little terrifying to watch); he has newfound respect for Xephos, having such a weapon like that in their arsenal.

He easily knocks aside the technical that almost lands on them. Its charred remains join the debris falling down from the roof. The coliseum is so silent that they could have heard a pin drop. The beams underneath the platform start to protest in the form of more creaking. 

Ravs’ HUD pings with an incoming call. He checks the identify of the caller, letting out an inward groan once he sees that it's Rythian. It's not exactly an appropriate time to be calling. He suspects that it has something to do with Xephos' ability to call down a giant fucking laser. 

He answers the call anyway, knowing that he can’t avoid it.

"Ravs! We just saw a laser strike the Badass Crater area," Rythian starts, sounding worried (as someone that sounds like Lalna snickers in the background). "Why can I hear gunfire?"

That would be Honeydew and Xephos dealing with the remaining gladiators who have climbed out from the wreckages of the technicals littering the platform. But Rythian doesn't need to know that. 

"Rythian!" Ravs says, unable to help sound distracted. "How's tracking down the power core?" He decides to ask, hoping that Rythian will fall for the change of subject. 

At that moment, Honeydew screams a battlecry and charges forward as the leftover gladiators start firing back. They spark off Xephos' shield, causing them to yelp in surprise before they toss a grenade. 

It goes off, pushing one of the technicals (with a few gladiators trapped inside of it) off the side of the platform. It crashes against the side of the beams, all too loudly. Ravs hopes that Rythian hadn't heard that. 

He had.

"Ravs, what's going on? Is Sanctuary Hole under attack?" No such luck. Ravs suppresses a sigh.

"No, no!" He reassures Rythian, digistructing his shotgun (he’d despawned it back while punching gladiators) and reloading it. "Everything's all right at Sanctuary Hole since Nilesy and Turps are holding down the fort for me," He says, trying to sound more light-hearted rather than distracted. 

"What are you doing away from Sanctuary Hole?" Rythian proceeds to ask, sounding thoroughly unimpressed. 

"Nothing that's illegal, I can assure you," Ravs says, firing his shotgun at an incoming threat. 

One of the still functioning technical screeches past him, the gladiator driving becoming riddled with bullets from catching the brunt of his shotgun bullets straight to the chest. They grunt as the rest of the bullets ping off the technical’s side.

Just to finish it off, he tosses a grenade right in its path. His grenade shorts out the engine, causing it to die mid-purr. A rocket from Honeydew finishes it off (Xephos catching Honeydew this time to put him back down onto the platform). The two flash him a thumbs up, giving identical, crooked grins.

Ravs can’t help but let out a pleased laugh at the sight.

"Ravs, please answer the question." Ravs can hear the exasperated sigh in Rythian's words.

"I wouldn't lie to you, Rythian, you know that, right?" Ravs says brightly, remembering that Rythian’s still there.

"Right, you wouldn't lie to me because as you said, you're up to nothing 'illegal' right now," Rythian says, sounding extremely skeptical. The mental image of Rythian acting out the quotes (with his fingers) around the word ‘illegal’ appears in Ravs’ mind. It almost causes him to chuckle.

"Don't be like that, Rythian," Ravs says, making sure he sounds innocent. "What I'm doing right now, is nothing that you should worry your pretty little head about. Besides, it's well within my rights as an aspiring property owner to..." He trails off. 

He would have continued with 'to kick Corvax's ass for being a backstabbing bastard’, but he's interrupted by a sound he would have preferred not to hear.

The platform creaks once more, this time, accompanied by the sound of metal breaking apart. The platform starts to tilt unsteadily under his feet. Honeydew and Xephos scramble to keep their balance, flinging their arms out and trying to stay upright.

"What-" Rythian starts but Ravs interrupts him. 

"I'll call you back, okay?" Ravs says, quitting the call without waiting for Rythian to respond. There's no time to worry about him coming off as rude to Rythian. He just hopes that Rythian will trust him to call back because he fully intends to, once all of this is over. 

Ravs despawns his gun, beginning to run as the platform underneath his feet begins to fall, taking him and the other two with it.

The platform is falling towards the remains of the announcer's box. Ravs stops right at the very edge to see Corvax gathering up his scattered valuables. He hasn't spotted them yet. Honeydew and Xephos stop beside him, the two panting hard.

"Jump," Ravs casually instructs the two of them, refusing to think about heights.

"What?" Honeydew flatly says, giving him a look that questions Ravs’ sanity. Ravs chooses to ignore it, keeping his gaze trained on Corvax (don’t look at the drop beneath him).

"Are you flipping _mad_? We can't make it!" Xephos yells exactly what's on his mind. 

"You'll be fine," Ravs says before jumping. Not wishing to remain on the falling platform, Xephos and Honeydew suck in deep breaths and take leaps of faith right when the platform collapses under their feet.

Xephos had done as they’d promised; they’d expected to feel the shield slamming into them in the next second, preventing them from landing but all they meet is air. Honeydew and Xephos land, stumbling forwards and coming to clumpy stops. 

Honeydew darts forward once he’s regained his footing, straight at Corvax. Corvax whirls around right as Ravs lands. Before Ravs can confront him, Honeydew reaches him first, shovel in hand. 

He smacks Corvax in the face with his diamond shovel, grunting from the force of his swing. Corvax falls to the floor, the imprint of the shovel impressed on one side of his face and head. Honeydew despawns his diamond shovel, dusting his hands off. 

In the meantime, Xephos is examining the overloaded, sparking machine containing the power core. The jammer blocking them from reaching Honeydew via ECHO is in smithereens on the floor from rubble having crushed it. 

Ravs strides over, finding the 'off' switch and pulls out the power core. He tosses it to Xephos (who immediately starts to juggle it from all the heat it's giving off). It goes into Xephos' inventory before they can drop it. Xephos blows on their fingers after.

"Take that back to Sanctuary Hole," Ravs instructs them. "It's almost drained but it should hopefully hold through the initial bombing run. We’ll have to count on Rythian and the others to pick up a more charged one in time."

"Will do," Xephos solemnly says with a nod. Honeydew kicks Corvax in the side before scampering over to Xephos, tugging on their sleeve. Corvax lets out a pained groan. 

"There's a Vault beneath us!" Honeydew says excitedly, having remembered what Corvax had promised if he’d won the Arena rounds.

"What? Really?" Xephos blinks at Honeydew.

The two of them bid Ravs a hasty goodbye and take the (mostly intact) stairway two at a time to the bottom of the coliseum. The bottom is a complete mess (bodies, bits of metal, charred remains and structural pieces littered here and there) but the two of them pick their way through.

They find the opening to the Vault (almost blocked by debris). Between the two of them, they pry off the grate covering it and climb down the ladder, thoughts of treasure, loot, money, fame and glory on their minds.

The Vault is empty. 

"What the fuck is this bullshit?" Honeydew yells, his shout echoing around the chamber. He kicks the wall and proceeds to hop around on one foot, clutching the other in pain.

"It must have been opened before," Xephos observes, disappointed. The only things left behind are the alien swirls (almost text) on the walls that glow a vivid purple every now and then. Neither of them can read it so they quickly lose interest.

"Corvax didn't say anything about _that_ ," Honeydew growls, having half a mind to storm back upstairs and give Corvax a piece of his mind in the form of smacking him with his diamond shovel several more times.

"He must have been lying to you; anything to get a Vault Hunter into his Arena," Xephos muses out loud.

"Lying, dirty, cheating bastard," Honeydew grumbles, putting his hands into his pockets and pouting. He moves towards the ladder when Xephos nudges him towards it.

"Cheer up, at least we have a power core," Xephos says, trying to sound optimistic as they climb out of the empty Vault. "Let's get back to Sanctuary Hole. There's a Fast Travel Station nearby we can use."

"Okay, but you're buying me a drink, I could use the alcohol to pick me up..."

The two of them briefly wonder where Ravs is but they push the thought of their minds as they start to banter over who owes more drinks. Once they’re outside, Honeydew’s eyes widen and he slaps his forehead, smearing something across his forehead but he doesn’t care. 

“Bugger! I almost forgot, hold on…” He fishes through his inventory, muttering under his breath as Xephos glances his way, raising a curious eyebrow and looking up from the Fast Travel Station.

“What are you doing?”

“Here!” With a grin, Honeydew digistructs a stack of bulging containers, holding them out towards Xephos. “I had dinner with Corvax and decided to get a doggy bag for you,” He says, pleased with himself. 

“What the fuck are you on about, dinner with the man who just tried to-” Xephos starts but snaps his mouth shut as the combination of mouth-watering smells hit them. Their hand goes still in punching the Fast Travel code to Sanctuary Hole. “That smells _good_ ,” They eventually say with a hungry glint in their eyes. “Really _good_.”

“We didn’t get the Vault but we have a feast here that’s fit for kings,” Honeydew says, grinning.

Xephos can’t help but let out a laugh. “Put those back in your inventory and we’ll eat once we get back to Sanctuary Hole before I duel you for all of them on the spot.”

“Shower first, maybe?” Honeydew picks at his filthy clothes with a hand, glancing at Xephos. Xephos looks down and sighs at their own stained clothing. 

“Yes, I could do with a shower…”

\--

Ravs watches Honeydew and Xephos leave via the stairs, glad that they haven't caught onto his true intentions of coming to the Badass Crater of Badassitude. He leans over to lift Corvax up by the neck.

Honeydew hitting him with his shovel had been horribly amusing but Ravs needs Corvax to be conscious, too impatient to hang around for Corvax to reawaken. Nilesy and Turps actually have no idea that he’s not in Sanctuary Hole, the two of them having long since turned in for the night.

Corvax starts and opens his mouth but Ravs silences him by pressing his thumb against Corvax's windpipe.

"I'd like you to continue redirecting the profits back into my account," Ravs pleasantly says, directing an unimpressed look at Corvax. "I've noticed you've been keeping them to yourself for the past few months or so, which is not what we’d agreed on, if memory serves me right."

"I thought you were dead," Corvax lies. "Lack of communication and all that." The grip on his throat increases by just a hair.

"Just because I couldn't leave Sanctuary Hole doesn't mean I wouldn't have come after you eventually," Ravs says. "Or sent Vault Hunters after you. Aren't you glad I came personally?" A grin spreads across his face but it’s not one of amusement.

Corvax manages a minute nod. "Yes," He squeaks.

"You're very lucky that you're the only one who knows how to run an arena around these parts." Ravs pauses. "Or else I'd have broken your neck or strangled you to death by now," He continues as if to consider the idea as his grip start to cause dots to appear in Corvax’s vision. "So, are you going to try backstabbing me again?"

Corvax nods before realizing his mistake. He shakes his head before Ravs can deprive him of precious oxygen and cause irreversible brain damage (and Corvax rather likes his brain as it is). 

Seeming pleased with Corvax’s response, Ravs smiles but he continues to strangle Corvax in a leisurely fashion as if he has all the time in the world to torture him.

"This place will also do nicely as a backup town, just in case Sanctuary Hole goes under." He gives Corvax an expectant look.

"I'll make the necessary preparations," Corvax wheezes as alarm bells signaling the descent into unconsciousness start to ring in his mind. The grip around his throat vanishes from Ravs letting go of him. Corvax unceremoniously falls onto the floor. Ravs dusts his hands off.

"Great! Be seeing you around," Ravs cheerfully says. He moves to leave. "I'll check in...let's say, two days.” He pauses at the door to the stairs to let Corvax know as much before his kilt vanishes around the corner.

Corvax unhappily watches him go, one of his hands rubbing his throat (finger-shaped bruises left behind to serve as a potent reminder at just how close to death he’d been).

\--

The entire event has just made Ravs nostalgic for how he'd first met Rythian. He reflects on that fond memory as he's serving Honeydew and Xephos drinks. The two of them offer him some food (since when had they raided Corvax’s kitchen?) but he graciously declines; the two of them had been rather _helpful_.

Besides, Xephos could do with the food. They’re skinny enough as it is. Ravs excuses himself from the conversation to try to ECHO Rythian, just as he’d promised.

Rythian doesn't pick up. After trying twice more to reach him and failing, Ravs puts away his ECHO device and concludes that Rythian’s likely asleep at this hour. He’s probably worn out from constantly watching over Strife, Lalna and Nanosounds. 

\--

"Ravs, we got an unusual contender you might like to see," One of his bandits says from the doorway to the announcer’s box. They pause, unsure whether or not to continue, waiting for Ravs to acknowledge them.

"Oh?" Ravs looks up from the console, ignoring the sight of the arena (the last of it being prepared for the coming slaughterfest) to give an inquiring look directed at said bandit. “Show me,” He encourages, gesturing for them to come in. 

They drift towards him, hovering by the window.

"They’re the one in the purple scarf," The same bandit says while pointing to the contender holding room. "All the way in the back." Ravs spots the contender without needing more of a description.

Said contender is standing in the back, arms crossed over their chest, keeping well to themselves as the others crowd around the door to the arena, jostling for optimal position. The lone contender's faded purple scarf covers the whole of their lower face. Blue eyes (likely cybernetics, judging from the glow) calmly take in their surroundings.

From their garb, Ravs guesses that they're a traveler of some sort, possessing nothing new, everything of theirs well-worn and broken in, also covered in dust and mud stains.

Their sharp features give off the feeling that if Ravs touched them, he'd be cut. Given the poor lighting and shadows of the holding room, Ravs can't quite tell how tall they are, but he can make out that they're skinny, compared to the usual contestants. No muscle or bulk, all tense leanness.

On the other hand, they seem like they can hold their own in a fight, which is all Ravs asks for when it comes to the arena.

"Should we discourage him?" One of his other bandits asks, sounding eager.

"Nah, let him fight. It might be interesting," Ravs absently says, not taking his eyes off said contestant as he gives the signal to start the five rounds of slaughter. The bandit who’d wanted to pick a fight sighs in disappointment.

Ravs leans forward, switching on the microphone to welcome the contestants as the crowd starts to make their excitement known.

\--

The mysterious contender, against all odds and bets, had come out victorious and without a single scratch on them. Ravs orders his bandits to escort them up to him. They rush to obey before the contender can vanish into thin air and take their winnings with them.

Ravs patiently waits by the window to the arena, keeping his gaze trained on the giant monitor across from him. The contender’s last kill plays out, ending on a still frame of the contender reloading. It’d been nothing too spectacular in Ravs’ eyes but they’d thrown their opponent to the skags (after sucker punching and shooting them). 

The crowd had loved it though, lapping it up with deafening enthusiasm.

He’s not one to argue with the crowd. The contender might have teleported here and there but they hadn’t violated any of the standing rules (and they’d certainly _not cheated_ , despite what some of the more dissatisfied bandits claimed). If anything, Ravs admires their creative use of a short-range teleporter.

He certainly doesn’t see that happening everyday.

Eventually, the contender appears, two of Ravs' bandits on either side escorting them. They're taller than Ravs had expected, towering well above him by a head or so. They fix Ravs with a steady and mild, curious look upon seeing him. Ravs dismisses his bandits and gets up from his chair.

The door closes behind them, causing the contender to fold their arms over their chest. Wariness seeps into their rigid posture and their blue eyes (duller than he’d thought, ignoring the glow) never leaves Ravs’ face.

"I'm Ravs. I run the gauntlet you just won," Ravs cheerfully says when it's just him and the contender all alone in the room. He extends a hand and puts on his most winning smile. “So congratulations. What do you go by?”

"Rythian," They whisper. Ravs guesses that it’s their name. Rythian sounds like he hasn't spoken for days, almost cracking his own name in half with a gravelly undertone. 

He hesitates at Ravs’ extending his hand. After a second or so, he unfolds his arms to awkwardly takes Ravs' hand in his own, shaking it. There's a mild tremor to his hand (warm, dry with dust, rough and calloused in places). He withdraws his hand as soon as Ravs lets go.

"Would you like to stay on as a long term participant? You get free board, you'll be well taken care of..." Ravs starts but he trails off, blinking.

Rythian's just fainted in front of him. Ravs sighs, going over to the door to open it and stick his head out into the corridor.

"Can we get a doctor in here?" He shouts. It then hits him that Rythian is all skin and bones, never exactly a good occurrence on Pandora.

\--

He’d been trying to remain conscious, aware that he didn't have long before his body gave out despite his mind trying its best to convince his body to hang in there, just long enough for him to buy food and water. Well, that’d failed. Horribly.

Rythian had intended to take the money and leave, but the exit had been barred by two bandits. They’d taken him upstairs to meet their boss.

The slaughter had begun to take its toll on him so he hadn’t been in the best position to demand what they’d wanted on the spot. It didn’t help that the bandits had been vague about what their boss wanted either, so Rythian had wasted the last of his energy reserves priming himself for another fight (over the winnings this time).

He’d won that fight fairly, using nothing but his guns, wits and teleporter. Nothing in the rules he’d read banned teleporters. He’d even been prepared to return the money if it had to come to that.

However, the person called ‘Ravs’ had only wanted to offer his congratulations and to try recruit him. That’d been the precise moment his body had decided it had enough and caved into the result of several days buildup of dehydration, starvation and lack of sleep: blissful unconsciousness.

Rythian starts upon waking when confronted by an unfamiliar ceiling (a rusted red, tiled and upon closer scrutiny, consisting of several sheets of metal welded and bolted together). His head’s resting on a pillow that’s lumpy but admittedly, comfortable.

Much to his relief, his scarf is still in place; he has nothing to hide in regards to his face but he prefers having his scarf up out of habit.

The scratchy blanket is pulled up to his chest, one of his arms resting on top of it. His other arm’s managed to end up under the pillow. His body’s already giving off signals of hunger that he’s learned to ignore with practice and sheer stubbornness

His tongue has the texture of sandpaper. If it’d been any dryer, it would have scratched the inside of his mouth. He glances around, wondering where he’s ended up. He doesn’t yet have the energy to sit up so he contends with giving the room a once-over by turning his head to the side.

Ravs is watching him from a nearby chair, looking like he wants to laugh at him for starting upon awakening. Upon seeing him, Rythian questions him with his gaze.

"Don’t worry, you've only been out for an hour or so," Ravs says, doing his best to sound reassuring instead of amused. 

He gets up to hand Rythian a glass of water, waiting for him to sit up. Sitting up causes a sudden bout of lightheadedness to the point of wanting to pass out again but he manages. Rythian accepts the glass, willing himself not to drop it.

Once he’s got his fingers securely wrapped around it, he proceeds to pointedly stare at Ravs. Ravs takes the hint and turns his back on Rythian, allowing him the privacy he needs to pull down his scarf and drink it.

When the (presumably empty) glass quietly clinks on the table next to the bed, Ravs turns back around. Rythian’s scarf is back in place. There’s a sharp alertness to his eyes now instead of the dull, dead look that’d occupied them earlier.

"Thanks," Rythian says, his voice stronger but still somewhat hoarse. 

"It's a miracle you're still alive, considering your current state," Ravs lightly says. "How long have you been without food and water?" He can’t help but sound curious, causing Rythian to mull over whether it’s worth telling Ravs the truth or make something up.

"Days," Rythian replies, deciding on the truth.

Ravs is momentarily stunned into silence. The look on his face shifts from surprise to disbelief, then acceptance, all in the span of three seconds. Eventually, he hands Rythian a plate of food and a fork from the nearby table before turning his back on him once again. 

There’s enough there to give Rythian’s stomach something to work with, to get him used to eating again without causing him to throw up from eating too much in one go. When he doesn't hear the sound of eating, Ravs turns his head to observe Rythian.

He’s picking at the food with the tines of the fork. Ravs chuckles, causing Rythian to shoot a sharp look at him tinged with suspicion.

"It's not poisoned, I promise," Ravs notes. "I even cooked it myself."

After a tense moment (where Rythian is clearly struggling between 'eat' or 'continue to starve and pass out again’), Rythian gestures for him to turn around with the fork.

Ravs complies with a grin.

\--

Rythian slowly recovers under Ravs' watch, regaining some small measure of body weight, muscles and his faculties, looking less haggard and more bright-eyed as the days pass. 

Ravs doesn't ask questions. Rythian is grateful for the lack of curiosity. Too many people had tried to pry his secrets from him in the past but they’re all dead now, having paid the steep price for attempting.

His ‘benefactor’ continues to run the arena; Rythian sometimes watches, to get an idea of how things work. He learns several things.

The first is that there are only winners, no losers or draws. The second is that the bandits under Ravs' command are extremely wary of him, the Vault Hunter. Apparently, he's the first contender in a long time to have gone through the five rounds without receiving a single wound.

The third is that Ravs is a fantastic commentator and doesn't take shit from anybody; Rythian doesn't know how he settles disputes but the offenders aren’t exactly seen around these parts ever again. Nor does he have any intention of finding out precisely what Ravs does to get rid of them or if he ever settles the disputes peacefully.

The last thing he learns is that Ravs doesn't appear to use his own bed ever since Rythian has started living in his room. He raises the issue with Ravs on the rare occasion that Ravs is in 'his' room to chat between cleanups of the arena. 

Rythian’s reading, having settled comfortably on Ravs’ bed, his back propped up against the wall with a book spread out across one knee. A small pile of books sit by him. Ravs steals the topmost one to flick through it (Rythian not minding one bit). The bed creaks slightly as he settles next to Rythian.

"Ravs, why don't you ever sleep in your own bed?" Ravs doesn't stop what he's doing (continuing to flick through the book in his hands) but he does raise an eyebrow at him. "I can always sleep on the floor," Rythian hastily adds so that it doesn’t sound like he’s being ungrateful.

"Oh, it's fine, it's not like there are any shortage of beds that I can share or kip on around here," Ravs says without batting an eyelid.

Rythian doesn't want to think about the implications of that, nipping them in the bud. "Oh," He ends up saying, somewhat awkwardly. He looks down at the spread book on his knee, trying not to look at Ravs.

Ravs glances up (snapping the book shut) to properly give Rythian a searching look and his undivided attention.

"Why, are you getting lonely? I can help you out there," He proceeds to offer with a grin lacking any shameful whatsoever.

At that, Rythian's head snaps up to see Ravs grinning at him. His face turns scarlet, his blush rising above the line of his scarf and spreading across both cheeks. His entire body follows suit a second later.

"No, no, it's fine! I'm not. Lonely. At all," He awkwardly denies, stumbling over his words and wishing that he'd never asked in the first place and cursing himself for overthinking. 

Ravs makes a soft, amused sound at his reaction, handing him back the book. Rythian takes it, resisting the immediate urge to open it and hide his face behind the pages.

“Thanks,” He mumbles, managing to avoid sounding embarrassed (a minor victory, considering the circumstances).

"Feel free to let me know if you ever change your mind." Ravs proceeds give him a roguish wink. "Offer's always open." He’s not even disappointed when Rythian declines again.

Rythian very quickly puts the offer out of his mind so he's not tempted. Ravs has been very kind and all but he doesn't want to ruin their relationship with starting any dalliances, even if Ravs had offered. 

He has the feeling that Ravs wouldn't mind but Rythian is very firmly against the idea (feeling that it’s for the best).

\--

The gun kicks in his hand, his hand snapping up and back from the force of it. The sound travels across the open space of the Arena, echoing as it hits the walls and bouncing up and away.

His opponent staggers backwards, bleeding from several pistol wounds to the chest and face. They cough, a wet, _horrible_ , hacking sound that causes blood to messily dribble out of the corner of their mouth.

Rythian ignores the stunned expression on their face (and the gaping, perfectly circular wounds there), pulling the trigger of his pistol once more, the last round being fired with an all-too loud ‘bang’. It hits them in the forehead, the bullet not emerging from the other side of their head. 

With that, they fall backwards, collapsing in an awkward heap. Dead, he thinks.

Rythian exhales the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. His scarf had fallen down from his face during the chaos that consists of five rounds of murder thinly veiled as what constitutes as ‘entertainment’ on Pandora.

He has nothing against it. At the start, he’d regretted briefly that he’d been driven to the point of having to participate in order to win enough to stave off several months worth of starvation and dehydration. 

The trinket (on its rakk hive leather cord) cheerily bounces on his chest as he whips around to survey the arena, just in case there’s anybody who might have waited until he’s reloading to ambush him. Nothing jumps out him but he doesn’t lower the pistol.

“We have a winner! Congratulations, Rythian,” Ravs announces. It’s with a note of pride in his voice; it’d been inevitable that Ravs would have a soft spot for him considering that they’re now friends.

Rythian blocks out the sound of the audience cheering and chanting his name to put away his pistol, doing his best not to stumble or fall flat on his face as he makes his way towards the nearest side room.

It wouldn’t do after all, for the winner of the five rounds to make a fool out of himself.

While in the side room to refill his caches of ammo and pick up his earnings, discontent murmurs drift his way from the open door. Rythian hastily stashes the last of the ammo and his winnings in his inventory, edging towards the door as quietly as he can to listen in.

A group of unhappy bandits block the way between him and the proper exit. More dissatisfaction starts to spread amongst the bandits standing around as they restlessly shift. The whispers coalesce into murmurs, the murmurs mutating into shouts before his very eyes.

“He rigged this, letting the Vault Hunter win!”

“Playing favourites _again_.”

“Rigging the bets, that’s what this is!”

“He’s in league with the Vault Hunter!”

“Planned this from the very beginning, have you seen how much he keeps from us?”

“Doesn’t pay us enough…”

Rythian glances over in the direction of the announcer’s box, musing on how Ravs is going to react to this. 

When he glances back, one of them appears to have contacted Ravs by ECHO. From what Rythian can make of the video feed, Ravs is frowning, listening to the bandits accuse him, their baseless lies growing out of control by the second.

Rythian hadn’t had intended this to happen, causing a division with his presence; he’d agreed to participate in one arena match and then leave once he’d won, feeling like he’d intruded on Ravs’ hospitality enough.

He opens his mouth to disagree with the bandits, ready to step in but Ravs speaks first.

“If you’re unhappy with how I run things, then feel free to come up here and we’ll decide with fisticuffs!” Once dropped, the challenge spreads like wildfire through the bandits, causing them to react in the ways of cheering, shouting and death threats.

Nothing new on Pandora to Rythian, but it’s troubling to think that they think of their boss as somebody who’ll cave into such demands so easily. 

The bandits move, abandoning their posts to draw guns and head in the direction of the stairs up to the announcer’s box. Rythian waits until he can’t hear anybody remaining, choosing to move when it sounds like it’s just him left behind.

Rythian creeps towards the exit, digistructing a gun (just in case). He pauses to consider staying, weighing up the pros and cons of doing so, even if the exit is right _there_. He’s so close to being on his way (almost tasting and smelling fresh air, feeling the wind at his uncovered fingertips). 

If he steps through, he won’t have to look back and simply continue where he’d left off, traveling Pandora until he drops dead of something (having long since decided he can’t leave the planet).

A moment later, he turns to the stairs, shortly fighting his way up. They hadn’t been expecting somebody to come up from behind, granting Rythian the momentary element of surprise. 

It’s a simple matter of point, shoot and reload plus ducking behind cover if they happen to turn and see him coming, with the occasional teleport into the ceiling or wall if they didn’t want to let him shoot. 

By the time he reaches the top, he’s panting but otherwise, unharmed. It’s quiet, far too quiet.

There are bodies littering the corridor to the announcer’s box and Rythian fears that he’d come upstairs in vain, expecting to find Ravs dead. He barges into the announcer’s box, ready to fire his shotgun.

What he finds instead is Ravs cracking two skulls together and letting them drop to the floor to join countless others. Rythian blinks, lowering his shotgun and failing to notice rapid footsteps behind him. 

Someone shoves past him and lunges towards Ravs with a crowbar held high to bludgeon him.

“Ravs!” Rythian shouts as he catches himself, hesitating to shoot for fear of hitting the wrong person.

Ravs simply drops (almost to his knees), surprising his attacker. The swing of the crowbar goes wide over his head, missing him completely. They stumble forwards. He straightens up, easily hefting his attacker up over his shoulder as if to slam them into the ground (like something straight out of a wrestling ECHOnet video). 

Instead, he smoothly deposits them through the gaping hole in the window behind him. Their scream sharply fades, followed by the distant thud of a body hitting the ground. Ravs moves away from the cracked window with a satisfied (and admittedly, slightly evil sounding) chuckle.

“Rythian, you came for me!” Ravs finally notices him standing there. “You didn’t have to, I got things under control here,” He adds, sounding grateful nonetheless. “Been awhile since I last had a mutiny on my hands. Nothing I can’t handle.”

Regardless, he beams at Rythian. Rythian stands up straight, unsure how to proceed; Ravs hadn’t need rescuing at all. Stupid of him to think otherwise. He swallows nervously, thinking of how he can best extract himself without self-inflicting more embarrassment.

“I guess I’ll just leave now-” He starts but is cut off by the sound of an angry mob echoing up from the other end of the corridor up to the announcer’s box. Ravs moves to slam the door shut before barricading it with a table.

“Right, we’re certainly not leaving in that direction,” He observes, looking thoughtful.

“If you’re suggesting we leave via the window, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rythian says, beginning to panic slightly at the lack of options. Coming up had used almost of his ammo and teleporter battery. He’s also not that keen on taking the stairs again.

“Nah, I got something much cooler.” Ravs saunters over to one of the walls with posters of varying kinds plastered all over it. He peels back a corner and the entire layer of yellowing posters peels upwards and away, revealing a dusty, hidden door.

“A secret exit,” Rythian notes, impressed. Fists start pounding on the door to the room, threatening to break through in the next minute or so.

“Now, shall we?” Ravs lets him enter first before he heaves and tosses two chairs through the remaining window, shattering it with an explosion of glass that rain down into the arena and all over the room’s floor.

“They jumped through the window! Check the arena grounds for them!” Somebody’s muffled shout declares. Footsteps retreat from the door but others continue trying to break in, the table still holding firm against their attempts but the door’s beginning to crack in places.

Ravs follows Rythian through the door at last, taking the time to smooth down the wall of posters before quietly closing the door and breaking the lock. 

Their descent is quiet, the two of them concentrating on not losing their footing on the stairs that curve downwards into the inky darkness.

Rythian leads the way, his eyes lending a comforting glow that also lights the way. Whenever they pass by a segment with thin walls, they can hear riled up bandits moving around, yelling and arranging search parties.

They also keep an eye out on the way they’d came. The bandits hadn’t thought to check the wall of posters since nobody’s come down after them (yet). 

Eventually, the two of them emerge from one of the walls of the arena in broad daylight. Ravs slides the cover back over the hidden exit before he follows Rythian to the nearby Catch-A-Ride Station. Nobody else is around to see them leave. With that, Rythian considers it one of his more successful escapes.

As Rythian orders a technical, Ravs turns to survey the arena with a calculating expression. He pulls out a detonator (from somewhere) and thumbs the button. 

With several magnificent explosions (composed of a series of chain reactions that start at one end before coming full circle), the arena collapses in on itself in a blaze of fire and heat that consumes the entire structure. Rythian watches it, half-admiring and half-stunned.

When the dust settles, Rythian blinks and stares at Ravs.

“Just tying up one loose end,” Ravs says as if it explains everything, tossing the detonator aside. He’s apparently unconcerned by what he’d just done, sentencing hundreds of bandits to their death, being crushed or a fate just as bad. “Don’t worry, there was only bandits in there,” He explains upon seeing Rythian’s expression.

“Why did you do that?” Rythian shakes off his shock, finally digistructing the technical. As far as he knows, Pandora’s better off if most bandits simply dropped dead on the spot but Ravs is quickly proving himself to be something of an unusual exception, for a number of reasons.

“Felt like turning over a new leaf since running an arena was getting stale and to keep it out of the hands of rivals or unsavory characters.” 

Rythian decides not to argue about the finer moralities, since Ravs did technically save his life and all that. He settles on another question instead. “What are you going to do now?”

“Dunno, since I didn’t plan that far ahead.” Ravs shrugs. “I’ll figure something out.”

“You could be a bartender?” Rythian ventures, inwardly wincing when his words come off a serious suggestion when he’d intended it to be a joke. 

For that, Ravs gives him a mild look before it’s replaced by a thoughtful one. It’s too late for Rythian to correct himself so he just grits his teeth to avoid saying anything idiotic, not trusting himself.

“I never thought of that, considering what I was originally arrested for,” Ravs muses out loud, causing a plethora of questions to pop into Rythian’s mind. He walks by Rythian, pausing long enough to clap a large hand onto Rythian’s bony shoulder. “Thanks for the suggestion!”

“You’re welcome,” Rythian says, wincing from the strength in that shoulder clap.

“If you don’t mind, I might as well travel with you until I find a place to settle down and call my own,” Ravs says, pausing as he climbs up onto the back of the technical. “Unless you’d like to join me then?”

Rythian splutters, managing to muster up a hasty response to decline before Ravs thinks he’s accepted. Ravs laughs as he climbs into the turret; it’s not the first or last time he’ll tease Rythian like this.

“I’d appreciate your company while traveling though,” Rythian says to him as he gets into the driver’s seat. He means it; it’d be nice to have a companion, as he’s long since tired of loneliness. 

So far, Ravs has proven he’s good company minus the outrageous flirting but surprisingly, Rythian finds he doesn’t mind. He appreciates the attention, even. Rythian wonders how long it’ll be before they drive each other up the wall. 

“My offer’s still standing, you know.” Rythian doesn’t bother responding in favor of starting up the technical and pretending he hasn’t heard Ravs at all. “You know, you never told me what you did for a living but Vault Hunting sounds like fun…”

**Author's Note:**

> this fic comes to about ~17,000 words. i have no clue what the final word count will be for this entire au, fic-wise, but i’m looking forward to finding out. GUESS WE’LL FIND OUT TOGETHER. 
> 
> also, that’s two btb fics that’s released for november so that means no chapter eight of ‘tlvh’ until december. all the btb fics are archived on ao3 over [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/294023) so if you want some stuff to read in the meantime while waiting for chapter eight, GO AND READ THEM. read them already? GREAT. GO AND READ THEM AGAIN. and actually try to pick out as many references as you can this time. otherwise, they’re linked on the [plots](http://borderlandscast.tumblr.com/plots) page on the borderlandscast tumblr.
> 
> anyway, what was my main motivation for writing this chapter? well. the obvious one is taking the yogscast gta vids ([this one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=63JAE_1aqGI) in particular), lucky blocks and combining the badass crater of badassitude arena with them.
> 
> the second was that i really, really wanted to have ravs hit on xephos. I’M KIDDING. the (real) second reason was having xephos and honeydew strike off on their own for the time being. don’t worry, they’ll be back in chapter eight with ravs.
> 
> interestingly, i changed my mind during planning and had honeydew be knocked out instead of xephos after realizing that xephos wouldn’t be likely to take corvax’s offer without wanting to know everything about the deal. this is contrast to honeydew.
> 
> this is partially why xephos is co-ceo of J.A.F.F.A. (formerly honeydew inc.); if xephos had found out about the diamond shovel earlier, they wouldn’t have let honeydew commission it in the first place, hence leading to the two of them ending up on pandora as a result.
> 
> this is probably the second (probably third) time that corvax has backstabbed ravs in terms of whatever deal they’ve got going on. you’d think ravs would have murdered corvax by now but corvax is on his final strike. 
> 
> it is both a good and bad thing that ravs is now free to move and do whatever he wants now that turps is the meriff of sanctuary hole and ravs does trust him a little to look after the place while he’s temporarily gone.
> 
> what does ravs use all that money for? bribing people (such as sheriffs, bandits and vault hunters). mission reward money. buying supplies. that sort of thing. as the former meriff, ravs does his part in keeping the town afloat, even if it’s through less than legal means. not that he plans on letting turps know all about his operations since he doesn’t quite trust turps that much yet.
> 
> for anybody who read to the end of the fic? you got bonus scenes where ravs and rythian met for the first time. the scene where they meet teep for the first time will pop up in another fic. thanks for reading to the end of this ramble too. you’re fantastic and i hope you enjoyed this fic!
> 
> doodles are over [here](http://borderlandscast.tumblr.com/post/134523013924/honeydew-spies-two-figures-falling-down-through) and [here](http://borderlandscast.tumblr.com/post/134523015514/self-portrait-and-a-ravs-circa-2874-all-you-need), as drawn by the wondrous siins!


End file.
